


Healing process

by OrmondSacker



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Chirrut's POV, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitive Chirrut Imwe, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Rogue One, yes Chirrut can sense the Force fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: When Chirrut is injured in a fight, Baze does not take it well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 4 hours of sleep and too much caffeine. I apologize for typos and any other weirdness.

With great care Chirrut removes his tunic and lets his fingers examine the fabric. The gash long and the front is stiff with dried blood, it will need washing and mending. But that is for later. 

One hand finds the chair he knows stands next to him and he drops the tunic over the back, before he raises his hand to his chest. The muscles around the wound is sore and protest as his fingers examine the skin. The wound itself is long but shallow, the knife blade had not penetrated deeply though the thug had managed a cut between two ribs.  

His body had told him as much, but he was glad of the confirmation. Plenty of blood though. He needs to wash and the wound itself needs to be cleansed. 

Confidently he crosses the room to the small stand by the window. On top of it is a wash basin and a pitcher of water. He feels the sunlight filter through the window as its warm rays touches his hands when he reaches for the pitcher and fills the basin. 

Baze's heavy, steady footfall revibrates down the hall as he approach then come to a halt in the doorway. 

Chirrut makes no acknowledgement of his husband's presence, he knows Baze will say something when he is ready. Instead takes the cloth that lies next to the basin and start cleaning his wound. 

"You take too many chances." To anyone but Chirrut Baze would sound casual, even blasé, but Chirrut can hear the tight emotions in his voice. 

"I do as the Force guides me." 

"It guides you to recklessness." The remonstration in Baze's voice rings clear in Chirrut's ears. 

He had known that Baze wouldn't like it when he accosted the thugs in the alley, had known before he spoke that it would lead to violence. He had also known that he had to do it. 

"The Force will not permit criminals to assault innocent pilgrims." 

"The Force will not permit?" Baze says bitterly. "Or Chirrut? Sometimes I wonder if you can truly hear the Force, or you simply use it as an excuse to do what you will." 

The words cut Chirrut. He spins around to face his husband, anger flaring. 

"Why are you so spiteful?" he asks sharply as he walks up to Baze, his own voice tense with acrimony. 

This is very unlike Baze. Though he may no longer share Chirrut's faith, he has never been truly disparaging of it. Not with any bite, not like this. 

Baze remains silent as Chirrut takes the few steps across the room, all Chirrut can hear of him is his harsh, ragged breath. The moment they touch it all becomes clear to Chirrut.  

He feels a deep dread wash through him and his anger fades. Yes he had know Baze wouldn't like his actions, he hadn't realized that him getting injured would scare him _this_ badly. 

"Baze," he says softly, raising his hands to his husbands face. Beneath his fingers he can feel dampness in Baze's beard. 

 _Tears? Oh_ _Baze, my love._  

"I saw the blood soak your robe. You could have been killed." Baze's voice is rough and trembling when he speaks. 

"The blade barely grazed me. Look." 

He steps back and let Baze look at him. He can feel his gaze as an almost physical touch on his skin. 

"It needs to be cleaned," Baze rumbles as if that hadn't been exactly what Chirrut had been doing when he came in. 

Chirrut meekly allows Baze to lead him to the bed and listens to him pick up the basin. Baze's hands are tender, quite at odds with their callused fingertips and dry, rough palms as he gently cleans the cut. 

"You will risk your life over a band of no good itinerants, who only come here to cause trouble." His husbands is grumbling still, but his words lack any sting now. 

"They were seekers, here on a pilgrimage. It is my duty to the Whills and Force to protect them." 

"One day it _will_ get you killed." 

"Very possible." 

"How can you treat that so lightly?" 

"Because I know it is not the end." 

He doesn't need to touch Baze to know that the man is shaking his head.  

He knows that Baze does not believe, just as Baze knows that he does. It is one of the many points where they differ, yet at the end of the day their differences is what makes it work, makes _them_ work and have through the years. No matter how strongly the opined against each other they always came back together. 

But this... Chirrut gets the sense that this runs deeper than usual, this will not be an easy injury for Baze to heal. This time the fear runs deep, a heart wound, a spirit wound. He senses it every time Baze touch him. 

He hears Baze's deep, heartfelt sigh then feels as his rugged hands cups his face, thumbs stroking Chirrut's cheekbones. 

"Chirrut." 

The kiss when it comes is entirely expected, as gentle and tender as Baze's hands had been. Chirrut raises one hand to cup Baze's chin, his fingers playing with the soft beard. 

Baze's hands come up to grab Chirrut's shoulders and he allows Baze to push him down on the bed as the continue to kiss. Tension and fear merges into passion and need that flows from Baze, meeting and mixing with Chirrut's own. The fire is slower in coming than it was when they were younger, but still the warrior can make him burn. He needs this as much as Baze does. 

Baze lets go of Chirrut's mouth and starts kissing him down the throat. The feel of Baze's beard dragging softly across his skin makes Chirrut gasp. 

Calloused hands starts to undo his belt and unwrap his robe, as Chirrut impatiently tugs at Baze's shirt. His fervent moves makes Baze laugh. 

"Patience," Baze rumbles as he takes hold of Chirrut's hands and press them softly but firmly into the mattress. "You'll only reopen your wound." 

"You tease me and expect me not to respond?" Chirrut offers blithely. 

Baze offers no reply but instead bends his head down to kiss Chirrut's chest, his long hair dragging deliciously over naked skin. 

Soon enough Chirrut finds himself naked, Baze's hands caressing his body with agonizing slowness. 

Chirrut's raises his head, a testy expression on his face. 

"Baze, do something." 

"I thought I was?" Baze replies, laughter in his voice. 

"You know what I mean." 

Baze chuckles. "Or what?" 

Chirrut simply raises one eyebrow. 

With a rumbly laugh Baze lies down on top of Chirrut and kisses him again, wet and open mouthed. 

"You are wearing too many clothes," Chirrut says, sliding his hands up Baze's back beneath his shirt. 

"Would you like me to do something about that?" 

"Yes." 

Baze briefly disengage to strip down, but the lack of contact feels like forever to Chirrut. When Baze is back he immediately wraps his legs around him, locking him in place and earning another rumbling laugh. 

He tangles his hands in Baze's long hair and kisses him hungrily, pressing up against Baze's broad muscular body. 

Baze laughs again, tilts Chirrut's head to the side and kisses along his jawline back towards his ear before ending up nibbling on his lobe. 

"Baze," Chirrut says warningly. 

"What?" comes the mild response. 

"Stop. Teasing." 

Baze pulls back, his fingers running lightly through Chirrut's hair. 

"What do you want?" 

"You." 

His words are answered with another deep, passionate kiss as Baze wraps his hand around both of them. The slow stroking sends fire through Chirrut's veins and he clutches Baze's back, pushing into his hand, no longer even trying to hold himself back as he feels Baze's kiss and nip at his throat and his bliss flowing from his skin into Chirrut's hands. 

The pleasure of orgasm runs through Chirrut like the breaking of a dam, washing him with along it, Baze at his side as always. 

Baze collapses on top of him with a groan and Chirrut chuckles, wrapping his arms around the man. 

Chirrut enjoys the weight pressing him into the bed, the solidity of his husband's body and their shared contentment, but slowly there is a change in Baze. The tension from earlier returns, the calm he found in Chirrut's arms clearly only a temporary relief. 

Baze struggles up and Chirrut lets go of him, feeling him get of the bed and hears him start to dress. 

"You lost blood, you should eat something to replentish it." Baze's mutter is so low it is almost drowned out by the rustling of clothes even to Chirrut's sensitive ears. 

"Baze," he says as he sits up on the bed and reaches for his husband. His robe can be mended and the cut on his chest will close, but heart wounds are more difficult to heal and they can easily fester if left untended. 

"Baze," Chirrut repeats, standing now and still holding out his hand, waiting for Baze's move. 

Time ticks by. Then he hears Baze's heavy sigh and feels his calloused hand in his. The pain is muted, but clear through the touch. 

"You take too many chances." 

"To you they might have been troublemakers," Chirrut asserts. "But they were also seekers. They may find no answers to their question on Jedha, but I will have what they find tainted by the hate and greed of Gurido's thugs." 

"And now you have made enemies of him, and them, Chirrut. Next time there will be more than 10. And the time after that more again, and again and again. How many can you stand against alone?" 

"I will not be alone." 

"Yes, I know. The Force." Baze pulls away from Chirrut, breaking the touch, but not before Chirrut feels another flare of anguish. 

"No," he replies, reaching out and taking Baze by the shoulders turning him back to face him. "You." 

A flood of emotions rise in Baze, swirling by too quickly for Chirrut to separate. 

"And what will happen when the day comes that I cannot protect you?" 

"Then it ends." 

Baze pulls him close, wraps his arms tightly around Chirrut's waist and rests his forehead against his. 

"I wish I could share your calm." 

 

Chirrut can feel his husband's breath ghost across his face. 

"When the time comes, you will find it." 

"I wish I could share your faith." 

Chirrut tilts his head and kisses Baze's lips. 

"I am here now, as are you. That is all we can know, the only certainty the Force gives. Let us enjoy it while we can and let tomorrow look to itself." 

"And in the meantime you will antagonize every criminal group in Jedha City who preys on seekers." Baze's voice is soft, a mild exasperation underlying a warm fondness. 

"Of course." 

For long seconds Baze simply holds him in silence. Chirrut lets him, making no move, only hugs him back. 

Finally he feels the tension shift, change into something softer and warmer, the beginning of a healing. 

Baze chuckles. 

"Very well, so be it," he says, giving Chirrut one more tight hug. "But in the meantime, you still need to eat. I will go get us some food." 

Chirrut inclines his head. He could make his own meal, but Baze needs something to occupy his hands and mind with, cooking will do well for that. 

As Baze's footsteps disappears down the hall Chirrut hears his voice call back, "And your robe needs mending." 

Chirrut smiles at the words, knowing the healing of his husband's spirit has begun. Then he shakes his head and turns his mind to other matters. His wound needs a proper bandage and then there was that robe. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can howl at me on [tumblr ](luminousfinn.tumblr.com)if you want to.


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